The eyes
by Kkas
Summary: One thing Mikoto was sure of, her feelings couldn't be changed.


_Alright, so this is my debut into the Narutoverse. My take on the turmoil Itachi might have felt before the massacre, and sort of a 'what if', with his mother…_

_Itachi might be a little OCC, partly because he's supposed to be fighting his emotions, partly cause I may still not have gotten his character down quite yet. But any suggestions on how I could improve are welcome. :)_

_**Disclaimer:**__**Like it's been said by many a fangirl, if I owned Naruto, it would be a 'sausage fest.' M'kay?**_

_Starto!_

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><p>Staring absently at the kitchen table. It's all he'd been able to do for the past three days. All he could do to erase his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions.<p>

And yet he hadn't gotten a step closer. Yet the time for him to commit the deed loomed precariously nearer. He figured he'd be so broken then his memories would have no problem fading into evanescence. Which is why he'd planned everything else ahead. He'd be too lost to think clearly after. Too lost in shame.

Which was why, for the sake of the ones he had forsaken, he was relinquishing his emotions. With a soft, silent blink, he resumed his desolate stare. It was safe, now. Fugaku was at the police, Sasuke was still settling into the academy, and Mikoto had gone to buy groceries he knew they wouldn't finish. And gradually, his eyes clouded over and his troubled expression faded, leaving him with that apathetic look he often carried now.

It was very un-ninja like of him to disregard all senses, and even he was startled when he felt those familiar slender arms wrap around his shoulders. Wisps of silky onyx hair settled over his shoulder, and the essence of home tickled his nostrils, gentle porcelain skin brushing over his cheek.

"Itachi." The voice breathed gently. It was relieved, yet laced with concern. He knew why. He'd seldom left his room, in these recent weeks. She'd tried to coax him out with gentle words at first, ironically the way she had not long after the fourth ninja war, but after seeing how resistant he'd become this time, she settled on leaving him meals, so at least her first baby didn't starve.

He bowed his head. He couldn't stand the love he could hear. "Don't hug me mother. I'm despicable." He made no move to shrug her off. It was disrespectful. And he'd had no orders to reject her love, so he wouldn't. He wouldn't make her last days more miserable than they had to be.

"You're my son, Itachi. Even if you did the most despicable thing, I still love you." He could feel her lips curl against the exposed bit of his shoulder, and the butterfly kiss dance along the side of his neck. "I gave birth to you, and so, whatever becomes of you, I'll watch you with love."

He exhaled noiselessly. "Mother's love, eh?"

Eyes closed, he felt the vibrations of the chair through the balls of his feet, and heard the quiet, yet unsightly roar of a chair scraping back against the kitchen floor contrasting the eerie silence that accompanied them only moments ago. Her warm fingers against his, thrown carelessly over the table sometime between being alone and her entering made him look at her again.

"It's the greatest." She beamed proudly.

"It's the most blind." He retorted coolly.

"Nope. It's like the Sharingan." She demonstrated by activating her eyes. Itachi couldn't help but let a wince slip at that. Sharingan was for battle. "It can see through the illusions." She closed her own eyes for a moment. "The pain, the shame, and the hatred are inferior." And when opened, she revealed black irises, pupils lost in the vast emotions as she stared at him.

"That's what it's like, Itachi. So…Don't be scared." She spoke as if she knew what was going to become of her. He prayed she didn't, yet the part he was trying to kill wished she did. Maybe, she could stop him…If Fugaku knew-

No. He's the only Uchiha that would kill family. He knew that.

Besides Uchiha Madara, that is. The man was drifting around Konoha, waiting for the day with a morbid impatience. He stiffened as he remembered his casual mention of Sasuke. And plus, even if it wasn't he, who killed them, another Anbu member would only replace him. He wanted them to die meaningfully, at best. Mikoto's hands trembled.

"And Fugaku does too. I promise." She squeezed, lifting her free hand to caress his cheek. He stared back soberly in return. "I'll be happy to…." She paused.

"Mother, no more…" He whispered hoarsely. Wrenching his fingers from hers, he broke eye-contact again. "Please don't love me." _I'm trying so very hard not to love you._

And she complied to the former, for a long while. Outside, it had begun to downpour, and both quietly wondered if Sasuke would make it home safely, unaware the other was doing so.

"Itachi."

"…"

"Mothers love _all _their children. So, I'm asking you… To _please_ spare Sasuke."

The thought of that tiny, smiling boy laying cold and still in a lake of his own blood sickened them both. That was the one person he refused to kill. He was still….pure. Too pure to live in the world Itachi had seen. He had plans for his little brother, too. He wasn't sure his mother would approve, to begin with, but maybe she could understand, with time. "Without fail, Mother." His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he tried to portray every feeling that he'd been suppressing and send them to her. Feeding her countless apologies, sleepless nights, the resentment, the despondency, and the obvious reluctance he felt. The pre-remorse, the shame, yet the feeling he was doing right by his ninja title. And something her mother's eye managed to detect: His aching need for forgiveness. For her to reach out to him and take those bad feelings away. He wanted her to understand, and respect his decision, even if he didn't realise it himself.

She stood, thumbs ghosting over his cheeks and clearing the lone sign of his misery that had slipped from his eyes, as she brought her lips down to kiss his nose, hand brushing away his obstructing locks so she could also kiss his forehead. "To me, you're welcome to my arms even when you've fallen."

Slowly…yet surely…..he accepted her embrace. His head rest against her firm stomach, unable to support itself anymore. Staring vacantly at the wall, his fingers betrayed him and wound themselves into the front of her dress, clutching tightly. Still stiff, and shoulders taut, he turned his head so that his expression could be hidden.

After all, this moment was both a first and last.

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><p>That night, when he came, he wasn't surprised to find a smile on her face. Fugaku stood in-front of her, hell-bent on protecting her. The look in his eyes was almost territorial, yet he couldn't quite mask the horror that his own son would do such a thing.<p>

All Uchihas were loosing their calm tonight.

"Do you know what you've _done_, Itachi?" Fugaku spat. "Choosing _Konoha_, that soiled nation, over your own clan."

His deadpan scarcely flickered as he drew his sword. To his relentless torment, it was Mikoto's reflection that he could see against the Katana's silver blade. Fugaku's words made it easier for him, and yet hers did the opposite, making his stomach turn in an unsightly manner.

"Limitations and loyalties to one's own clan do not restrict me. It's _this_ clan, that is soiled." _My family. _

Although nobody said so, the words '_why did it come to this,' _resounded excruciatingly against the walls, bouncing aimlessly through the silence and cutting them sharper than his blade ever could. As he filtered his senses and his reason again, he couldn't quite ignore the light whimper from his Mother as he impaled his Father with his own blade. He stared into his father's eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he watched them cloud over and leave the world, nothing but betrayal in them. With a forced exhale through his nose, he thrust his sword forward, his father tumbling to the wooden floor all too familiar to him.

He watched, as she sobbed through a smile. A smile directed at him. Even trembling with grief, he could imagine the thoughts running through her head; fear, for her son's futures, relief, that at last she would get to follow Fugaku, and that Sasuke wouldn't for a long time, and…

"_Itachi…..Love...You," _She managed to mouth to him, blood trickling steadily down the corners, and dripping onto Fugaku's corpse. Mikoto's eyes hadn't changed, in that time, and he had to wonder if he'd ever understand this woman's reasoning. The reasoning of the best mother he'd known, the only mother he'd had. Returning the favour, he wiped the blood from her lips, leaving smeared, red stains on her pallid skin. With a tiny, suppressed choke, her fingers caught his.

And then she joined Fugaku.

For a brief second, he slouched, the grief consuming him, before he heard the frantic pant and the frenzied patter all too familiar to his ears. Stone wasn't hard enough to match the hardness of his eyes, as he readied his steel.

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><p>Like the clouds, time had passed over them all. Even those no longer living. She was with them, always. She'd seen how bitter and lonely her cheerful, warm little boy had become. She'd seen how determined and aloof her other little boy had become to pull the wool over the world's eyes. But she saw through that illusion that both were suffering, and thinking about one another. Longing for their parents, and each other, and for things to be the way they were. She wondered, if it was her fault for bringing them into a world of ninja. And Fugaku often told her it was no such thing, as proud as always. Off to blame the next soul, though he'd forgiven his son some time ago.<p>

But today, she merely sat perched upon a cloud, and witnessed, with her own veil of serenity, as Itachi's performance came to an end. It saddened her to see them hurt each other, but watching Itachi's relentless act made her eager for his suffering to cease. It'd been going on so long… She wanted the weight off of his shoulders. With his plan concluding here, she had to wonder what would happen to Sasuke as she gnawed on her bottom lip. Was it wrong of her to wish for her son to die? Either of them?

Her attention was brought back to them at the sound of Sasuke's panicked screaming. Itachi approached slowly with susano'o, half-dead already, his stagger bloodied and beaten as his lifted a scorched hand, mumbling something about Sasuke's eyes to keep the charade.

She started crying with longing the same moment his fingers met his forehead in that familiar fashion, with those familiar words.

"_Sorry, Sasuke. Maybe next time."_

"Sorry Sasuke, this'll be the last time."

It was a while longer before his form surfaced in heaven. She'd been sure, before, but then fretted endlessly that maybe he wouldn't come, as she waited anxiously for his arrival. Fugaku assured he would, and she melted, realising that her silly, awkward husband was just as anxious too.

Noticing a tentative form on the horizon, she stepped forward, a temperate grin on her face, as she felt the uncomfortable scowl on her back. "Just remember he's your son."

"Damn Konoha." He grumbled, following from a distance.

She can tell he walks heavily, beating himself up as usual and feeling as though he didn't belong in such a place, but she knew. She knew how much he deserved this. It was one thing for a hero to die for his village once. But to die internally every day, was another thing. She'd also watched his spirit become truly battered. Without hesitation, she wound her arms around his form, so much larger than the last time…or the first time, she'd held him.

"Itachi." She murmured, urgently tightening her arms. "Itachi."

He offered nothing in return, except his own arms, to wind around her. He was taller, now, and she had to tiptoe slightly to reach him. She still smelt like home, and now what he remembered as a nostalgic feeling. Feeling the pressure of a hand against his back, he was startled to see Fugaku's arms devouring both of them in his own hug. He couldn't remember Fugaku showing this much affection, even before their relationship became strained. He also wondered if he imagined the quiet grumble of welcome, he heard, but gauged by Mikoto's laugh that it had, indeed happened.

"I told you," She laughed, the sound tinkling in such a pleasant way he'd forgotten was possible. Fugaku had pulled back enough to leave just a hand on his sons shoulder. Mikoto couldn't help but snort about how his pride would never disappear, with the fondest of smiles. Lacing her fingers through his, she took him to the lone cloud she often occupied, and together, they looked down on Sasuke, as she praised him for all his hard work up until then and mothered him in a way she hadn't in years. Fondling with his long, silken tresses, she stated. "Hubris, was the downfall of the Uchiha. That, and a chain of unfortunate coincidences. And you were just a poor child caught up in them all."

To him, they didn't seem like the empty words that a parent often supplied their child with to protect their feelings. There was nothing for her to protect, after all. He was a man, now, and he'd had just as many hardships as they, if not many more. This was what Mikoto believed from the bottom of her heart, as her Mother. Although her husband was very reluctant to admit that some of the fault was his.

Itachi had left Sasuke with a chance to repaint the legacy that the Uchiha had left in the minds of some. This, in exchange for him living, was fine, for her. As Itachi had once said to Naruto, Kushina's beloved child (1), Sasuke was still capable of changing. Her faith was in him, and that he could somehow bring her son back to the light he'd claimed to have forgotten long ago.

Sasuke, of course, _had _been protected. And unlike Itachi, hadn't been taught how to deal with tragedy, he hadn't been taught revenge wouldn't quell the grief, but in fact, been spurred by his own brother. She'd chide him for that later, she decided.

But, for now, at least, she could enjoy his presence.

"Let's see what he does, shall we?" She mentioned in between strokes of combing through his hair. Not that it truly mattered, what he did. Sasuke was just as much her baby as Itachi was. He'd be welcomed into her arms all the same, but she could only hope for his happiness on earth, for a while.

"The mother's eye, again…?" She looked down, to find his ebony eyes fixed towards her. He had that hushed smile on his face, slightly worn from years of little expression.

"You have the brother's eye, too, Itachi." She stifled a chuckle at his bewildered expression.

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><p><em>I hope it wasn't too cliché. (As I often hope)<em>

_(1) A slight spoiler for non-manga readers..._

_Thanks for reading. Extra cookies for constructive criticism. ^^_


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